


this will be our year (took a long time to come)

by sweetdreamsaremadeoffish



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Road Trips, as it tends to be, bc it's so fluffy and sweet, in which mary has a station wagon because i just feel like she would, just soft, only angst is in zee's head, there's a little pre-shmexy stuff at the very end but im still rating it G, y'know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2020-01-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:13:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22275379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetdreamsaremadeoffish/pseuds/sweetdreamsaremadeoffish
Summary: Mary’s keys in the ignition and her head lolled back on the headrest, Zelda blew a last, elegant kiss out the back windshield to her family and trundled the old Ford down the drive, onto the passing road. They disappeared in a wink of distance rather than magic.
Relationships: Zelda Spellman/Mary Wardwell | Madam Satan | Lilith
Comments: 10
Kudos: 51
Collections: Madam Spellman 2020 Challenge





	this will be our year (took a long time to come)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Singofsolace](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Singofsolace/gifts).



> Oddly enough, I’m actually on time for this prompt. It would’ve been earlier but @concreteangel1221 on tumblr desired some Spellwell fluff and wasn’t getting what she wanted, so I had to start over real quick. Title from The Zombies’ “This Will Be Our Year”.
> 
> Hope you darlings enjoy!

Ambrose heaved the crushing black mass off his shoulders. Having lugged it down the stairs, outside, and to Mary’s car with strained groans and jaw, he shoved the suitcase into the station wagon’s trunk and shut it with a resounding thud.

“That should be the last of it, Auntie Zee,” he declared, cracking his neck theatrically.

His elder aunt rose from her seat on the porch, stubbed out her cigarette on its railing, and glided to the ground with an appreciative nod. “Thank you, Ambrose.”

“Honestly, Zelda,” Mary scoffed, leaning against the side of the car. “We’ll only be gone for a few days; did you really need to pack your _entire_ wardrobe?”

Zelda smothered her annoyance with arms slung around her waist and slow, sleepy kisses. “It never hurts to be prepared, dear.”

At four in the morning, early mists clung to the mortuary and its inhabitants where they stood in the driveway. Zelda batted at the perked curve of Mary’s ponytail, already mussed at the edges, the mortal’s sweatpants and light sweater pressing soft to the dark circles under bright eyes. The remaining Spellmans huddled nearby, Hilda chipper, Ambrose blinking even in the dim dawn, Sabrina practically snoring against her cousin’s chest. Hugs were exchanged foggily, fond pecks on cheeks and tight squeezes around shoulders tumbling between them until everyone was sated, and Mary mumbled something about their plans to beat the morning rush, Zelda ushering her in the passenger door.

Mary’s keys in the ignition and her head lolled back on the headrest, Zelda blew a last, elegant kiss out the back windshield to her family and trundled the old Ford down the drive, onto the passing road. They disappeared in a wink of distance rather than magic.

“I still don’t understand why I can’t just teleport us there,” Zelda groused.

Two weeks ago, when they’d first started planning the trip to Boston, Mary sat on the floor in front of the fireplace grading papers, Zelda lying with her head in the brunette’s lap. Mary sighed and set down her assorted pens to card trim fingers through Zelda’ amber curls, eliciting a gravelly purr of approval from the depths of the witch’s throat.

“Darling, my family’s all quite adamantly Christian, remember? They’re already having some trouble understanding us, we’ve got to take it step by step. Women _and_ witches all in one blow might break them.” Mary shrugged, stroking Zelda’s cheek. “Besides, it could be nice. Just you and me and the open road?”

“ _Fine_.” Zelda rolled over onto her stomach, examining the flames, then Mary’s marking. She aimed a black polished nail at a line of cited text. “That’s wrong.”

Mary bent to match her angle. “What is?”

“The date. It’s off by three and a half years,” Zelda teased with a grin, driving Mary to shove her down to the carpet.

“There’s no way you can prove that, Spellman.” They tussled, bumping harshly into the hearth, Zelda wheezing with uneven giggles.

“I was _there_!” she countered, trying to shove her way out front beneath her lover before fixing her with a challenging look. “Wardwell.”

Mary was asleep the moment they hit the highway. Usually soft and sweet in their bed, her snores were suddenly deafening in the stillness of the car before sunrise. Zelda kept one eye on her, the other on the asphalt expanse ahead, first light lifting into her sights.

She hadn’t really _meant_ to do it.

Well, she had, but not quite that way and not quite so soon. She’d fumbled with the little velvet box in her coat pocket, having taken to carrying it about with her, digging her nerves into its sides. It was Mary’s birthday, and autumn air skipped in through the open front door of Mary’s cottage, all cardboard boxes and sheet-covered furniture now with a for sale sign staked into the rain-soft yard.

The movers would come the next morning and ferry Mary’s belongings to the Spellman Sisters’ Mortuary. When Zelda wasn’t looking, the woman had unpackaged her record player and set one of her favorite albums under the needle, music glowing on her bare feet as she danced with eyes closed around what would soon be someone else’s parlor. Sunset followed the wind through the open windows, setting her aflame in the dying sun, and Zelda couldn’t help herself.

She caught Mary at her swaying hips and kissed her again and again and again until she was sure Mary’s lungs were just as tight for breath as hers had been all morning, confiding her lover’s name in her lips.

“Mary?”

The schoolteacher’s answer floated on the melodies swirling ‘round them. “Yes, my love?”

 _Best to get right to it_. _At least this way the movers would have it easier_. _That is, if the boxes and furniture and love stayed put_.

She swallowed the bile rising in her throat and found herself down on one knee, the tiniest box in the room finally open after months buried in Zelda’s worries and the ring shining silver within.

“Will you marry me?”

Mary’s arm flopped across the bench seat just short of Zelda’s thigh, reaching out for comfort even still deeply asleep. The witch laced their fingers in her lap, admiring the miniature silver turtle doves at either side of the ring’s jewel.

“Zelda?”

A glance down confirmed her fiancée’s slow waking, unforgettably blue eyes under rough-rubbing palms, ponytail already ratted at her neck.

“Yes, Mary?”

The mortal slid closer, capturing her closest arm to her chest, sleepyhead rested on her shoulder. How her body was always hotter than the Pits of Hell Zelda would never know. Mary yawned, quiet and deadly, though Zelda’s heart was long hers.

“I love you,” she mumbled to the redhead’s blouse, drawing up a hum of acknowledgement.

Ten minutes later, Zelda could feel those eyes on her. “What?”

“Nothing.” Mary shook her head in false dismissal. Zelda waited her out. “You didn’t say it back.”

Zelda scoffed. “Oh, please, you know I love you.”

“Good.” Mary drifted back toward her side of the seat pointedly.

Zelda rolled her eyes. “Really?”

“I have absolutely no idea what you mean by that, Zelda Phiona Spellman.”

“You absolutely do, Mary… Mary. Wardwell.”

The aforementioned insufferable dear cackled at Zelda’s uncertainty. “You don’t know my middle name, do you?”

Recovering, Zelda refocused on the highway. “Sweet Jezebel, Mary, do I need to pull over?”

From the corner of her vision, she saw Mary’s face flicker with mischief. She inched closer, smirk thick with innuendo. “Are you offering, Miss Spellman?”

Zelda turned her gaze toward the nearest shoulder, shifting the car in that direction muttering under her breath. “You are _insatiable_.”

The instant the station wagon settled in park, Mary’s tongue was in her mouth, hands roaming the roadmap of the witch’s body, straddling her warm and willing with a whisper.

“You wouldn’t want me any other way.”

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think in the comments below and know that I love youu! <3


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